13. If long-suffering propriety is what they want from me, they don’t know how you’ve haunted me so stunningly
13
If long-suffering propriety is what they want from me, they don’t know how you’ve haunted me so stunningly
Moth
I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to believe it was a dream. I wanted to wake up the same way I had yesterday—blissfully unaware—but even if I forced myself to believe that, when I woke up, one look at my phone would tell me the truth.
Rolling over, I looked out the soft, embroidered curtains, squinting through the sunlight. The storm had broken, leaving the world outside bathed in lush, bright light. I could hear the birds in the old oak tree singing happy songs and looking for love.
They were lucky. They didn’t know about the horrors of the world. They didn’t know the chaos that hid in the darkest parts of the forest at night.
Maybe they do, my thoughts reminded me. Maybe they know, and they choose to ignore it.
I sighed, folded in on myself, turned away from the window, and retreated into what was left of the shadows. I didn’t want to face the world. I didn’t want to believe in the monsters under my bed, and the darkness that hid from the world.
I wanted my ignorance back.
Before long, I could no longer ignore the drumming in my bladder, and I tossed back the covers, forcing myself out of bed. Without even looking, I reached over and grabbed my phone from where I’d put it the night before, when I retreated into bed, where it lay waiting for me.
I moved from the room and down the hall, stepping into the bathroom before I looked down at my phone, and there it was, just like I knew it would be—undeniable rust-colored stains marring the glittery teal case. I wonder if he’d bugged it or tapped it somehow. Could he read every text and hear every phone call?
Whatever. It didn’t matter. I didn’t care.
He hadn’t been wearing gloves. I’d felt his skin between my teeth and his fingers against my flesh. I had his fingerprints. I had blood.
This was DNA evidence. I could call the cops and—
I ripped the hand towel down off the towel bar. Reaching over, I flipped on the sink and wet the towel beneath the tap, ringing the excess water into the sink before wiping my phone down, scrubbing the lust and blood from every crack and crevice I could reach.
I couldn’t call the cops. No one could know about this. They’d confiscate my phone, and then it would be as simple as opening my contacts and finding the video he made.
And they’d think I was fucking insane, but maybe I was.
Yes, I was. I had to be. Simple as that .
I was fucking crazy, and this was all my fault. Everything that happened to me was my fault. I deserved it.
With a scream of rage, I tossed the towel into the bathtub and cleaned myself up. Once I was done, I flushed and jogged out of the bathroom, making my way downstairs.
I could feel a headache pounding in the corners of my skull, slowly creeping closer and closer to my frontal lobe. It could be from the lack of sleep, or maybe the lack of food. Maybe it was from a lack of caffeine.
Maybe it’s from all these mental gymnastics, you fucking idiot.
The voice in my head was as bitter as I was, and I snorted.
It had been one hell of a week.
Standing against the sink, I leaned over the counter, my lips pursed and eyes narrowed.
What fucking day was it? It had been longer than a week, hadn’t it? I was losing my mind. I was losing track of time.
Swiping my phone on, I looked at the date.
Yeah. I had cracked my gourd. It had been nearly two weeks, and I hadn’t even noticed.
Groaning, I slid my phone into the back pocket of my jean shorts and turned, reaching into the dish drainer and pulling out a mug. Over the sink, a cabinet held the essentials. I pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of Tylenol.
“Breakfast of champions,” I grumbled, popping the cap on the pills and spilling a few across the counter.
God, what had I become? When had I turned so fucking angry at the world ?
Probably around the time I’d lost control… but had I ever really had control of my life?
I’d been abducted and abused, forced to become the new mom to my alcoholic father when my mother had gotten sick and passed away, and now I was stuck with a stalker who didn’t take no for an answer and a body that apparently liked that ?
Stupid, brainless vagina.
I glared down at the half-filled sink of dirty coffee mugs and spoons and then pulled my phone out of my pocket.
If it was bugged, there was only one way to find out, and I may as well use it to my advantage. I lifted it to my mouth.
“Hey asshole, if you’re listening? Little tip. I don’t like doing dishes, so if you can find a clit, you can find a sponge. Wanna impress me? Clean my fucking house.” I paused, silently fuming. “Asshole.”
I grabbed the coffeepot and poured myself a cup of the coffee I’d made yesterday morning. Pulling open the fridge, I plucked out a container of coffee creamer when a sudden thought struck me.
Why aren’t you freaking out?!
That was a good question. I should be freaking out. I should be screaming and crying, not making coffee, and thinking about lunch. Why wasn’t I? Why did I feel so calm, if not a little fucking annoyed?
What good would it do to scream and cry and throw myself on the ground like a petulant child?
How would that help me? It wouldn’t.
I was being stalked. That was obvious. Last night he had broken into my house and…
And what?
It wasn’t rape exactly. Was it?
What had even happened?
It was assault, that was for sure, but he’d stopped at that. Why hadn’t he raped me? Killed me? Played picture pages with my insides?
I was alive, but still, I should be freaking out.
Maybe I was desensitized or something. Maybe so much bad shit had happened to me that I couldn’t be phased anymore.
“Ha!” I barked a laugh.
Shaking my head, I moved over to the microwave and popped the door open, placing my mug inside. Two minutes would about have it boiling.
Good. I liked it hot. The more distracting, the better.
I needed another distraction. Maybe I should just get drunk.
I took up the bottle of whiskey I’d retrieved and spun the cap off. It went spinning off the counter and fell to the floor, rolling away and getting lost with the dust bunnies under the fridge. Oh well, what a shame. I guess I’d just have to finish the bottle. There was only about an inch or two of the amber liquid left, anyway. I brought it to my lips and took a deep pull, swallowing and cringing at the sting and the burn.
Burn, baby burn. Burn away the thoughts and all my worries.
It could kill me for all I cared, as long as it chased away the thoughts.
Finally, the well ran dry, and I sucked nothing but air. Sighing, fighting the sloshing and roiling in my stomach, I dropped the bottle into the sink, satisfied by the clink of glass on glass .
Good, let it break. Maybe I’d use the pieces to slash my fucking wrists.
In my pocket, my phone began to ring, and I jumped.
Threading it out of my pocket, I answered it without even looking at the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Nessa!” Amelia’s bright and sunny voice erupted from the speaker, and I sighed. It had been so long since I’d heard her voice and the instant I heard it, I was teleported to a different world and mindset. She had a way about her to lift my spirits even when the clouds were the darkest and heaviest. “Whatcha doing?”
“Making coffee,” I said, looking over at the microwave. It had gone off at some point, and I missed it. “You?”
God, was I really that out of it?
“Drivin’,” Amelia said. “How ya feelin’?”
I sighed. I couldn’t tell her the truth. How the fuck would I explain that? Just as I opened my mouth to answer, I burped, and the liquor in my belly sloshed painfully.
Oh shit, that had been a mistake.
“I’m good. I’ve had one hell of a week. Sorry, I didn’t text you back. I’ve been super busy.”
“I understand! I can’t imagine how hard it’s been. I just thought I’d check in.”
“Ugh, christ. So much has happened.”
“All good, I hope!” she said. She was distracted. I could hear it in her tone. “Anyway, I’m on my way! You can tell me all about it over dinner and a movie. ”
I stayed quiet, my jaw dropping open and my heart skipping a beat in my chest.
On her way? Amelia was coming… here?
That was a bad idea. She had radar, and she’d know something was up, and then I’d have to tell her, and—
“No! Dude, that’s a two-hour drive! I can—”
“Already halfway there! So get a shower and throw on some makeup! We’re going out! You need to get out of that gloomy house and have a good time! I can hear the depression just dripping off of you.”
Before I had the chance to protest or complain, the line went dead in my hand, and I groaned.
Welp. I guess that answered that. There would be no moping around today. In a daze, I fumbled up the stairs to the shower, stripped off my clothes, and got in. It was cold at first—damn old pipes—but quickly became sweltering.
Good.
I liked my showers hot, just like my coffee.
It had meant to be a ‘just the essentials’ shower, and quickly evolved into an ‘everything shower’, because I needed it. Kind of like a factory reset on an old, laggy phone. I need to feel fresh and new. I needed a fresh start.
I scrubbed, ending with quickly washing my hair, using Dad’s old dollar store shampoo. It wasn’t the best, and I knew it, but he had somehow kept his hair until the day he died. If it worked for him, it could work for me until I got something better .
Just as I finished twisting off the taps, I heard my phone’s merry ringtone and threw back the shower curtain. Wrapping a towel around myself, I reached over and picked up the phone.
“Yep?
“Hey, I’m on Main Street!” Amelia’s cheerful voice called to me, and I sighed. She was like one of those tiny, shivery dogs that came in all the time at the clinic—perpetually happy. “Where do you wanna meet me?”
“Uhm,” I thought, swinging the door shut and dropping the towel. Usually, I’d just dress with the door open, content that no one was there. After last night, I’d never trust that again. “Mae’s Dinner?”
“Cool beans,” Amelia said with a giggle. “You gonna be long?”
“Twenty minutes?” I said. “How the hell did you get here so fast?”
“Speeding,” Amelia said simply. She was shameless, and it brought a smile to my face. “Now hurry up. I am starved .”
Without waiting for me to retort, she hung up. God, she was so hyper all the time, and part of me wondered if that was why we got along so well. I was slow and bitter. She was happy and peppy.
I dressed, smeared some eyeliner on, and did my eyebrows. Somehow, I’d managed to throw together a cute outfit with what was left of my suitcase—a ribbed yellow halter top, with cut-off blue jean shorts, pockets embroidered with butterflies and flowers, and a matching sunflower belt.
A few moments later, I stood in front of the full-length mirror behind the door in Dad’s den, looking at my outfit. I wasn’t normally one to think highly of myself, but I looked cute today. The thought lifted a smile onto my face—until a voice in my head wiped it right back off again.
God, did you really need to cum that bad?! You’re glowing… whore.
Sighing, I slapped off the light and walked out of the room. I couldn’t have anything. Not even a thought to myself. Grumbling, I moved across the hall and down the stairs. Snatching my keys off the table beside the door and grabbing my purse, I walked out without another thought, pulling the door shut and locking it.
Should I even bother? He could get in any time he pleased, anyway.
Shaking the thought away, I moved across the yard to the barn, where Barrett had so smartly parked my convertible. I’m so happy he’d thought of it last night, or else it would be flooded this morning.
The air was heavy and humid, swimming with pollen and birdsong. The gravel driveway sloshed and crunched beneath my yellow and black wedge sandals, and when the wind blew through the old elm, I could smell the scent of wildflowers and hay.
It was barely five minutes later when I pulled into town. Rounding the corner, I saw Amelia’s telltale black Escalade and snorted a laugh. It was hilarious how badly it stuck out among the pickups and old beaters. We weren’t from here, and it showed. I whipped into an open parking space right next to her and killed the engine, kicking the door open and plopping the keys into my purse.
It almost felt like I’d spent more time at Mama Mae’s than I had at my dad’s house lately. I needed to learn how to cook, and quickly. This was going to get expensive fast. Stepping inside, I looked around, seeing a ton of familiar faces. Sheriff Banner sat in one booth, talking animatedly to Tammy and Ray. Across the diner, Principal Lewis sat with a newspaper, and when he saw me, he gave me a hearty wave.
My mind recalled the things Barrett had said, and I blushed, waving hello. There was no way Principal Lewis was the one doing this to me, especially not after last night. It wasn’t long until I found Amelia, her bright blonde hair standing out from the olive green paint and black booths. I hurried over to her, and when I sat down, she gave me a wide smile, showing her perfect white teeth. Her tiny button nose had burned, much like mine, but she didn’t get freckles. She just got an adorable amount of blush that made me jealous. She wore a simple pair of black blue jeans and a pristine white t-shirt.
I picked up a menu and immediately hid behind it. For some reason, I couldn’t meet her eyes.
“You look super cute!” Amelia beamed.
“Thanks,” I said. “The burgers are really good here. What are you having?”
Amelia was quiet, and I dropped the menu. The way she looked at me told me everything I needed to know. The jig was up. She knew.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“I’m fine .”
“So something is wrong.”
I glared at her.
“This is not the time or place for this conversation. ”
“So you’ll tell me later?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe means yes! Awesome!”
Just as I opened my mouth to say something, Mama Mae stepped over to us. She held her hand on one hip, and when she looked between us, she had a sweet, knowing smile on her lips.
“Now this one I ain’t seen before,” she said, pointing to Amelia with the pad and pencil she carried. “You brought a city friend.”
“I did,” I said, grinning up at her. “Barrett was busy today. Something about pasturing the bulls?”
“Breeding,” she said, and my stomach dropped like a rock.
That was a familiar word.
“Anyhow,” Mae continued. “What can I get for ya?”
“Do you have anything like a grilled chicken sandwich?” Amelia asked.
“We do,” Mae said, already writing. “And what would you want on that?”
Before long, their voices became background noise, and my mind was far, far away. I couldn’t get last night out of my head, but I was way less terrified than I should have been. Still, I couldn’t quite put my finger on exactly what it was I was feeling.
I was a little angry, but I wasn’t scared.
I should be scared. Why wasn’t I scared?
“Nessie?”
“Huh?”
Amelia narrowed her eyes at me.
“What would you like, hun?” Mae asked, looking down at me with a concerned expression. God, was I really that obvious ?
“Oh, just a cheeseburger and some fries,” I said, handing her the menu. “Everything on it, please.”
“Coming right up,” Mae said, flashing a smile as she spun away. The minute she was out of earshot, Amelia was on me.
“So really, what’s wrong?” she asked.
I sighed, allowing my head to fall back. I really didn’t want to talk about this in public. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, I heard the bell jingle, signaling that someone was coming in, and Amelia’s sharp intake of breath told me it was someone important. Turning, I saw Tommy, and he beelined for Sheriff Banner.
I wonder what they were talking about?
“Who is that ?” Amelia asked, and when I looked over at her, I could practically see the anime-style hearts in her eyes.
“Uh… who?” I asked.
“The one who just walked in.”
“Tommy?” I said, one eyebrow cocked in Amelia’s direction. “Oh, he’s a firefighter.”
Amelia’s eyes were wide, and she practically vibrated in her seat. She was more excited than the energizer bunny could ever be.
“So I was right. He is hot. And I don’t see a ring.”
I snorted at her bad joke.
“Yeah, I told you about him.” I kept my voice quiet, happy that the conversation had shifted to something besides me and my stalker.
“You did no such thing,” Amelia argued.
“I did too. Remember, I told you about the firefighter that found me when I was… taken? ”
Why was it hard to say? I hadn’t had problems talking about it for years now.
“Well damn, let me just go out and get into a car accident real quick so he can give me mouth-to-mouth.”
I snorted, and Amelia stood up.
“Wait,” I said, reaching out and grabbing her hand. “Where are you going?”
“I am shooting my shot,” she said with a laugh. “Watch this.”
I rolled my eyes as she walked over, and I tried my hardest not to stare.
Politely, she waited for a break in the conversation, and Tommy looked over at her, one eyebrow arched and a smooth smile on his face. Amelia rocked on her heels as she spoke, and when she’d finished, Tommy chuckled. The smile on his face was soft and sweet, but when Amelia turned and walked back to the table, the frown on her lips told me everything I needed to know.
“Damn,” Amelia grumbled as she flopped down in her seat. “A swing and a miss, I guess.”
“He said no?” I asked, trying not to smile as I reached down, my nervous fingers picking the wrapper off a straw.
“He politely said no.”